


Long Stretch of Love

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s07e17 All Things, F/M, Love, Romance, Season/Series 07, The Season of Secret Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This has been swirling in my head for awhile, as well as sitting on my hard drive.  I was listening to Lady Antebellum's “Long Stretch of Love” (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25AEc6dJbws">here</a>) while driving home from work one night I thought of the opening scene when Scully was leaving Mulder's apartment at the beginning of “All Things.” My take on the infamous scene and my first attempt at writing fic for season seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break of Day

**Author's Note:**

> Was meant to be a oneshot but I like writing in parts I guess. Same disclaimer applies, as always, I own nothing and I am merely borrowing from Chris Carter and Co. with no profit being made.

She heard the rain as soon as she woke and then her brain hit her full force. What had she done? She sat straight up in bed, somehow not waking Mulder who grunted slightly before flopping on his stomach. She watched him grunt again, pooling the sheets across his chest and waist, his leg sticking out at an odd angle. He grunted again, his arm seeking the warmth where her body had previously lay. His fingers grazed across her bare thigh and she held her breath, waiting for him to settle back to sleep. He grunted and relaxed when he sensed her presence. Carefully she removed his hand before gently placing her feet on the carpeted floor and getting up.

Her eyes roamed the floor, looking for something to cover herself, before spying an old bath towel which she wrapped around herself, before heading to the bathroom, picking up the loose articles of clothing that littered the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder at his sleeping form before entering the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind her.

How did she get here? How did she let herself get here?

Scully's mind was racing at the impossibly high amount of things that could go wrong. Her hand automatically reached for the shower knob, ready to take a shower, but paused, wondering if it would wake Mulder, which is the last thing she wanted. She withdrew her hand, and pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering what she should do.

As she let her thoughts, her hands automatically fixed her hair and dressed herself. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, leaning forward, trying to discern anymore new wrinkles, her mind aimlessly wandering. She was different. She was different than before. They both were.

She straightened her green sweater and paused in the door frame of his bathroom, turning off the light quickly, not risking awaking him still. She placed both of her hands on the door frame, rocking herself back and forth, trying to will the anxiety she felt away. Scully had not done this since she was a child, since she was in medical school awaiting the results of a major test, or the anxiety that inevitably came with her affair with Daniel. But Mulder was different. Last night proved he was different. So why was this moment causing her so much anxiety?

Scully focused on Mulder's face. He frowned slightly in his sleep, his right hand stretching outwards and then curling back into a fist when he sensed her absence. Scully held her breath. He flexed his hand repeatedly, moving slightly over the spot to where she had been sleeping. He groaned in his sleep, frowning, and buried his face into his pillow.

This was nothing new either.

Since she found him with his brain sliced open in the depths of the Department of Defense, they had undoubtedly grew close. Finding herself in bed with him was not an uncommon occurrence, except, she would usually be gone before the morning sun, and she would talk nothing about it at the office, and Mulder respected that, especially when he tried the first time and Scully shut him out. So now, it just sort of happened, just like an extension of their years of unspoken communication.

Just like it happened last night, but more came of it. Much more.

Scully watched Mulder, trying to will the new uneasiness she felt to the pits of her stomach before she quickly made her way across the room to pick up her jacket and sneaked quietly out the living room to get her boots. She cast a lingering glance at the worn, leather couch and the haphazardly tossed wool blanket on the floor.

_“What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.”_

_“Mmm. And all the... choices would then lead to this very moment. One wrong turn, and... we wouldn't be sitting here together. Well, that says a lot. That says a lot, a lot, a lot. That's probably more than we should be getting into at this late hour.”_

She remembered falling asleep against his shoulder, and he had dozed off as well. Then she woke up, momentarily not recalling where she was to find she had woken Mulder up as well. Then one thing led to another...

The way he touched her always set her ablaze. His kisses—she closed her eyes recalling the moment—they felt different, everything felt different. His hands roamed, like they normally would, but he touched her more reverently and lovingly. She remembered her tongue exploring her, tasting her, like it was the first time. For the first real time. Everything had been so painfully slow...

She caught her breath, not allowing herself to be caught up in any more memories. Her mind was moving a thousand times an hour as she hurriedly pulled on her boots and made her way to the door. She looked at her watch as she pulled the brown apartment door behind her slightly, double checking to make sure it was locked as she made her way to the elevator at the end of the hall. She looked over her shoulder, uneasiness welling up inside of her. She had made the walk of shame home countless times. Why did now feel so different? It hurt her. With each step she took away from that apartment, from him, felt like she was growing lost in a sea of confusion, and he was the only one that could center everything. 

She closed her eyes, hitting the down arrow button repeatedly, growing impatient at how unusually slow the old elevator seemed. She looked at her watch. 4:51 A.M. The 21st. Saturday. She would not have to go to the office. She would not have to deal with him. Or this or these feelings, whatever it was. She could just go home back to Georgetown, lock her apartment door, hide away for the weekend, and not have to face anything until she went back to the office on Monday morning. Finally the elevator doors opened, she rushed in, and she hit the button repeatedly to close the doors.

….

It was still raining when Mulder came to consciousness. He ran his hand down the length of the right side of the bed, surprised to find Scully gone. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced about his room, finding no evidence of her anywhere. “Shit,” he groaned, falling back into bed and placing his arm over his eyes.

Mulder really thought he had something this time. That the secret nights in one of their beds without speaking a word of it the next morning had come to an end. Scully's moment of epiphany about her life was enough of a catalyst to propel them forward. He loved her. Dear God did he love her so much it hurt. He had loved her for years and would do anything for her. Granted their relationship had it's ups and downs; she shot him in the shoulder, but to be fair, he was deranged out of his mind. But she was always there for him, and in her moments of weakness, likewise. Wasn't that what love was? Or at least a part of it?

He sighed and reached for his cell phone that rested on his nightstand. He dialed his voicemail. Nothing. Grunting, he glanced at his red alarm clock. 7:34. A.M. Saturday. If she had not called now, she wouldn't be any time soon. And adding the fact it was Saturday, he would not see her until the office Monday, it weighed him down all the more. 

Groaning, he threw his feet over the side of the bed, reaching for some discarded basketball shorts. He ventured out into his living room, unsurprised to see her not here, and again with no clue that she had even been here. Mulder sat down on his leather couch, picking up the wool blanket off the floor, pausing briefly to smell it (it still smelt of her), and then gazed at the small Buddha statue that sat under his fish tank. Everything happened for a reason, he sighed with determination, and he was going to make sure of it. 

With renewed determination, he headed to the shower, grabbing his jeans and a light sweater. He had a goal and that goal resided in Georgetown.


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post morning after. Angst ensue. How long can one wait?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came rather quickly. That's what insomnia does for me. No beta on this. Please tell me what you think, I'd greatly appreciate it. I am actually unsure about writing this in general. Again, I owe nothing, merely borrowing from Chirs Carter and Co.

Scully toweled her hair as she emerged from her shower and pulled on a fluffy robe before going to the window and frowned. It was still raining. She did not remember the weather forecasts calling for rain all weekend but she supposed it suited her mood. Combing her wet hair back, she ventured into the kitchen where she turned the tv on in the living room the Saturday morning news and went to her cabinets to draw down her tea kettle.

 

Tea. Mulder. Fuck.

 

She leaned against the counter, wondering how the smallest things were creating memories of him. They left the hospital together and went back to his apartment. She made tea for him with his newly acquired kettle which she had bought for him the night before. But that would not stop her from enjoying her tea. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, and pulled down a box of green tea beside it. She relaxed slightly, rolling her neck, as she ventured back out to the living room and pulled her knees to her chest. She picked up her tv remote and turned up the volume on the news as the weather report finally came on.

 

“Good morning, metro area,” the meteorologist greeted, “as you can see this weekend is the perfect one to take it easy and stay indoors. With last night's surprise showers, expect them to continue onward all week into early Monday morning. If you are planning to go anywhere, make sure you bring that umbrella. Expect temperatures to stay in the mid to upper 40s while this front lingering. So much sure you stay warm too.”

 

Well, Scully thought, at the universe was encouraging her to hide away in her apartment this weekend. Her thoughts were interrupted with the kettle whistling and she got up and trudged back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. As she fixed herself a cup, she let her mind drift again.

 

She really disliked the fact she was doing all this thinking and introspection. But ever since that moment in the Buddhist in the temple, all the thoughts and the emotions she had managed to pin away for the past seven years had suddenly come out like a breaking dam, and she hated it. She raised and lowered the tea bag in her mug, frowning even more as she thought how everything was finally coming to a head.

 

Last night was different from every thing else. Last night had been...

 

Then there was a quick rasping on her door and she froze, her heart sinking, knowing who damn well who it was. And there was no point in trying to hide the fact she was not hear. Scully had been lucky and parked her car close to her apartment's entrance, but he would have seen it. And heard her tv that was on. She rushed to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her slighly, calling, “It's open!”

 

She had not unlocked it. And if it was really him, he would use his key. He always did lately, whether she was home or not. Ever since those secret nights started, with the exception of the office and professionalism, he threw complete disregard to her personal boundaries. It started early in their relationship with his random phone calls at three a.m. in the morning about whatever topic had gotten him excited during his insomniac nights. And now, this...

 

“Scully?” he called, poking his head in the door. Mulder saw her tv was on and smelled tea brewing. He knew she was home. He entered in cautiously and shut the door behind him. He took off his leather jacket and set his umbrella by the door. “Scully?”

 

She inwardly cursed herself and leaned against the door. “Um,” she cleared her throat, raising her voice, “just give me a moment, Mulder. I just got out of the shower.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes and bit his fist at the mere notion Scully was standing naked behind that door. The previous night was fresh on his mind and he wanted to do nothing more than show Dana Scully how much he loved and worshiped her. But no. He had to stay on task. He came here for a reason. Shit. This was going to be hard.

 

“Do you want me to make you breakfast or something?” he called, venturing into her kitchen. He could smell the green tea. “I can make some mean toast.”

 

Scully inwardly groaned again, rushing about her bedroom to change into a dirty pair of jeans and a extra large, worn sweatshirt. In her haste, she completely forgot to put on a bar. She was already opening the bedroom door and going back into the kitchen before she realized it. Fuck, she thought, fuck, fuck, fuck. But despite her inward panic, she forced a smile. “Would you like some tea?” she offered.

 

“Oh, no,” he awkwardly smiled back. “I'm all teaed out.”

 

“Is that even a word?”

 

He shrugged and went back to looking through her cabinets. “You left in such a hurry this morning,” he ventured causally.

 

Of course. Cut right to the chase.

 

“I had to...” she searched for a convincing lie. “I had to make sure my circuit breakers had not tripped.”

 

“Circuit breakers, Scully?” he asked, now moving toward the fridge. God, that was a pathetic excuse and he knew it.

 

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms, “they've been doing matience and my landlords have been asking all of the residents to check them. Daily. Twice. Daily.”

 

“Uh huh,” he said, looking over his shoulder. She looked so flustered. And well, beautiful. “Why don't you go and sit down. I'll make you breakfast.”

 

“You can't cook,” she deadpanned.

 

“I can cook one or two things. Eggs is one of them.” She grumbled something under her breath and began to go back to her living room. “Don't forget your tea!”

 

She stopped midstride and grabbed her tea before retreating back into the living room. Well, he thought, smiling slightly and rummaging for the eggs and whatever else look appealing, including the bacon buried in the very back of the fridge, this was certainly off to a good start. He could tell she was uncomfortable and this was going exactly how it he wanted it to.

 

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckery.

 

Scully's mind was racing. He had never done this before. He had never come over after one of their nights together and made breakfast for her. Ever. Not that she would let him. He probably would if she did. Apparently, he did not care this morning, no matter how uncomfortable it made her. She brought her knees to her chest, unused to whatever this new thing was. It scared her. She rested her chin on the top of her knees and focused on the tv, doing her best to tune him out.

 

In the kitchen, he at least had enough culinary skill to whip up scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. He gazed at her in the living room. Her wet red hair a shade darker than usual was slicked back. She shifted uncomfortably, as if sensing he was watching her and drew the hood up to hide her face. “Hey, what do you say to mimosas for breakfast?” he called.

 

“I don't have champagne,” she relied quickly.

 

“Screwdrivers?” he suggested, eyeing a bottle of vodka on top of the fridge. He remembered seeing orange juice in there too. “Come on. It's the weekend, Scully. We're not going anywhere.”

 

“Quit trying to get me drunk at 9 a.m, Mulder,” she groaned, pulling back her hood. Screwdrivers? Really? What was he trying to imply? She turned to face him from the couch and gasped slightly in surprise to see him balancing two plates and two glasses of orange juice skillfully out into the living room. “You didn't set my apartment on fire.”

 

“Well, like I said, I can cook a little,” he replied, setting the plates and juice down with ease. “I did spend one summer as a waiter on the Vineyard though so I am better at serving than cooking. I hope you're hungry and no, it's just regular orange juice.”

 

Scully was speechless. She could not remember any man she had dated do this for her. Mulder always surprised her when she least suspected it with the little things. Like breakfast. After she left him. Again. She felt that uncertainty well up in her again, the same she felt from last night, the same she felt before she left from that morning. “Thank you,” she managed.

 

She picked the warm plate up from the coffee table and set it in her lap. She pushed the eggs tentatively with her fork before taking a small bite. He smiled when her blue eyes rose to meet his hazel eyes. “See, you didn't die,” he teased.

 

She smiled, a real smile, and he saw her relax a fraction. She ate in silence with him, making a few happy noises as she ate the rest of her breakfast. He could not help but watch her and smiled. He had always wanted to do this with her ever so those nights started, something as simple as making her breakfast. He did not know why she would run from him. At first, he thought it was merely them relieving seven years of sexual tension the first time it happened. Then it happened again. And again. And again. The more it happened, the more he questioned the ulterior reason why for it. Last night had been the break through he had been waiting for and like hell he was going to throw this chance away.

 

“Thank you,” she finally replied. “Let me clean up. It's the least I can do.” To get away from this situation. This entire thing. “After all, you're the guest.”

 

“Scully,” he began, holding a hand mockingly over his heart. “You wound me.”

 

“I'm fine, Mulder,” she called from the kitchen.

 

He threw his head back in despair. Jesus, she was good. And annoying. She was avoiding the subject entirely. And pushing all his buttons just right. “Scully, breakfast was not the only reason why I came over here,” he called, getting up.

 

“I'm busy today,” she replied quickly. “My...mother is coming over...”

 

“To check your circuit breakers at five a.m. that your landlord is enforcing?” he finished, leaning against the counter.

 

Oh, God, she screamed inwardly. She physically tensed. She could smell his aftershave...last night... “I can't right now, Mulder,” she murmured, focusing her blue eyes on the dishes in her hands.

 

“What changed from last night,” he asked softly, brushing a straw lock of hair from her face. “Last night we were babbling on about fate and destiny and now you're running from me, from us. Like you've been doing.”

 

She closed her eyes reverently as his fingers graced her temple. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She leaned forward, bracing herself against the sink. “Nothing's...changed...from last night...” she managed.

 

“Scully.”

 

“Mulder, I can't talk about this right now,” she whispered.

 

“When can we talk about it then,” he asked pointedly. “I am getting tired of this, Scully. How long has this been going on between us?”

 

“ _This_ ,” she emphasized, “is what I can't talk about right now. It's too soon.”

 

“When will it be soon enough,” he asked. “You know--” he paused. “You know how I feel. I'll keep waiting for ever if I have to but don't do this to me anymore, Scully.”

 

She looked up, her blue eyes were watery, as tears threatened to spill. Mulder sighed, realizing this was an inward battle between herself. It had nothing to do with him. He cupped her face and kissed her forehead lovingly, pouring all his love for her into that single kiss. “I'm sorry,” she hiccupped. “I just need some more time.”

 

“Tonight,” he said softly, lowering his eyes. “I'll be by tonight with dinner. We are going to have this conversation whether you like it or not and we need to decide where we go from here. I'll wait forever for you, Scully, but I don't know how much longer I can endure.”

 

“Mulder,” she sighed, wiping her eyes.

 

“Tonight, Scully,” he replied, grabbing his jacket and umbrella. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”

 

She watched him leave and felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. Yesterday had been so perfect. Last night had been heaven on Earth. This morning limbo. Today, purgatory. She wiped her remaining tears and went back to the couch, drawing the blanket back up around her knees. She turned the tv up and laid down on the couch. She closed her eyes, her mind, heart and will in an ever constant battle, slowly awaiting for Mulder's return as the rain continued outside.

 


	3. Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Conclusion to Long Stretch of Love. Check out Lady Antebellum’s “Long Strech of Love” that inspired this. P.S. Smut ahead. Or my attempt.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of it, merely borrowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believed I finished this. It took @leiascully and @xfficchallenges of ‘Fics You Would Never Write’ to finish this. I don’t write smut. I never have. Until now. First attempt.

 

Scully put her vacuum cleaner away in her hall closet and surveyed her apartment. In order to keep her mind  at bay and chase away her insecurities, she began to clean, and it wasn't just simple tidying. It was an all out top to bottom exercise all the baggage out cleaning. Her apartment was spotless. She smiled, satisfied with the day's efforts. Then her land line was ringing.

 

Thinking it was anyone but Mulder, she answered, “Hello?”

 

“Scully, it's me. Just making sure you haven't fled the country,” he said.

 

“As tempting as it sounds,” she sighed, “no, I haven't gone anywhere.” She relaxed at the sound of his voice.

 

“Good.” She could hear his smile. “Good. I'll be by in an hour. I just wanted to give you a heads up so I won't catch you...unguarded.”

 

“So, you're giving me a chance to prepare my defenses?” she teased. “Before the siege?”

 

“Before the siege? Really, Scully? I was thinking along the lines of showering,” he replied. He paused. “Even though it isn't like I haven't  seen anything before. But I will bring my battering ram and siege towers just in case.”

 

He hung up and Scully leaned against the nearest counter as she set the phone down. She felt that familiar anxiety welling in her chest again and also the strange ache for what they could be as well. She would not let herself admit to it but this past year had filled her with so much hope; the past night even made her ache even worse.

 

She was afraid.

 

It was easier to admit it to herself than aloud. At least by admitting it to herself, she was not embarrassing herself too much, just stating the truth.

 

She thought back to her past relationships; Daniel, Jack, Ethan and then fleetingly to the Jerse and even Padgett (even thought the past two tried to kill her). None of them paled in comparison to Mulder. There was always something about him. What she could he offer that they could not? The past seven years. The past seven years were indescribable through the good, bad, and the ugly. But she had him, and that she would never change.

 

She thought back to how this began, the extension of their physical relationship. Scully never thought much of the small things in the beginning like touching her on the small of her back or the barely audible conversations that caused them both to lean inwards towards one another. But then, after they took the next step with their physical relationship, those small physical gestures took on a whole new world of meaning. Touching the small of her back at first was annoying, then comforting, and then evolved to something she grew used to like a cup of morning coffee or something like that. It had become an integral part of her every day.

 

Why did she want to run away all the time?

 

Her phone was ringing again. She groaned inwardly and answered it, clipped. “Hello?”

 

“Scully, it's me.”

 

“Mulder,” she greeted softly, inwardly relaxing, realizing who it was. “Didn't you just call?”

 

Mulder shifted on the other end, detecting the change in her voice. He relaxed his shoulder slightly as if Scully had rested her head against his shoulder personally. “What is it?” he replied softly.

 

She felt herself shiver at his tone. She physically relaxed at his tone. Dear God, what had come over her? Why, after seven years and a few months of random encounters, had everything changed? As scared as she was, her own inward self-preservation was trying to win out against these new found feelings of hers. That is why she fled in the early morning hours. But now...

 

“Scully?” His voice was soft. How did he know? “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” she managed. God, her voice sounded so small.

 

“Scully? Do you want me there?” he asked slowly.

 

Yes, oh, God, yes. But instead, she found a little self-control. “I'm okay,” she said.

 

“Well, that's better than I'm fine,” he replied. She could hear his slight disappointment. “But answer my question. Do you want me there?”

 

“Mulder, I still expect you to be here tonight. I am not running from you tonight,” she added quickly. “I just can't...I need some control.” Before I lose myself in you, she mentally added. “I am just...”

 

“I know, Scully,” he replied softly. “I know.”

 

“Mulder,” she began, unable to finish.

 

“I know, Scully,” he whispered as if he could read her mind still. “I'll be there tonight, I promise. Don't worry. I'm not going to let you go that easily. I've waited several years for this moment.”

 

I've always belonged to you, she thought nervously, just like you have always belonged to me.

 

“So have I,” she confirmed.

 

“Good. I'm glad. Scully, I'm not running away. Neither are you. I'll see you tonight, okay?”

 

“Okay.” She was about to hang up. “And Mulder?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Mulder was taken aback, uncertain of why she had said thank you. Thank you for what? Last night? The past seven years? Her infertility? Everything bad that had happened to her life? He felt his stomach tighten.

 

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice full of emotion.

 

It took a moment for him to process it. What did he hear? Respect. Adoration. Passion. Love. Love at its most basic form. Scully was not going to run from him. Not this time. “Scully.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Three simple words. Scully closed her eyes. Padgett's words came back to her about Victorians lack of words for emotion so they had invented words like pang and ache to describe the overpowering emotions, especially when it came to love. “It's a long stretch of love, Mulder,” she commented softly.

 

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He really thought he had her. Then he was caught off guard.

 

“But I love you too, Mulder.”

 

She had never said those words before to him. The last time he had said that to her, in the hospital in Bermuda, she dismissed him with an annoyed 'Oh, brother.' But hearing those words, in her voice, for real. He felt his heart stop. He could only think of one thing. “Can you repeat that?”

 

She smiled. A goodness to sake honest smile that she rarely gave. “I love you too, Mulder.”

 

“I could hear that smile, Scully.”

 

“Come here tonight. Bring food. I expect you to stay the night too,” she replied.

 

There it was. The gauntlet had been dropped.

 

“Scully...” She could hear how her surname was drawn out lovingly, he rolled the 'lls' of her last name. He was smiling. He was genuinely happy. She could hear it. Feel it. “I love you.”

 

There it was. His own gauntlet. Of course, he had to out do her. But for once in her life, she wasn't afraid. In that particular moment, she knew what was right. Not an 'Oh, brother,' or 'Jesus, Mulder.' But she knew the right answer. “I love you, too.”

 

Yes. She challenged him. She made him better. She was not going to be one to be one running away afraid. He made her better too. She could sense his smile, his happiness, through some unknown connection.

 

“I'll see you tonight, yes?”

 

All of you, she added mentally.

 

“I'm not running mentally,” she said. Did she really say that out loud??? “I'm not running,” she corrected quickly.

 

“I'll see you tonight, Scully.”

 

The call ended. She rubbed her face uncharacteristically. But she was smiling. It was an honest to good smile that she rarely showed. In recent years, only Mulder could elicit such a response.

 

She was looking forward to tonight so much.

 

….

 

Was wine too much, Mulder wondered, as he tucked the bottle under his arm. It screamed date night. This was not meant to be a date night. He knew that much. He did not want to scare Scully away any more than he had already with earlier that morning. Last night had been the past seven years coming to a head, just a validation, and acknowledgment of what they already knew and felt. But he also knew that neither of them was particularly good with expressing their own feelings when it came to actual conversation.

 

But unspoken communication. That was a different matter.

 

Last night...

 

He smiled in memory as he walked to her apartment door. The previous night had been nothing short of being amazing. While it had not been the first time they had joined together, it had been the first time that it had actually meant something. He remembered her soft lips, her supple skin...

 

Before he knew it, his own fist was raising to knock on the door on his own accord.

 

The knock was short and quick. And then Scully was there in moments. Mulder smiled. She looked softer, more relaxed in the apartment's low light. She wore a soft gray sweater and jeans. He wore his leather jacket, a dark t-shirt, and jeans.

 

“I thought you were gonna be late,” she spoke softly.

 

“I never said I was,” he replied. Out of pure instinct, he bent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I brought wine.”

 

Without further adieu, he pressed forward into his apartment. Scully stood aside and unconsciously brought her hand to her cheek to where Mulder had pressed that chaste kiss. It felt like it was burning. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to smile. Where he had kissed her felt like a center of warmth spreading through her and flooding her entire body. She smiled. “I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour,” she said.

 

He turned and smiled. She felt all a tingle. God, what has come over her? She continued to smile. “What?” Mulder asked.

 

“Nothing. I am just glad you are here, Mulder. That's all.”

 

He set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table and took off his leather jacket. Scully was still at the apartment door, almost frozen. He smiled goofily and took a few steps forward. He gently squeezed her bicep. “Earth to Scully. Still with me?”

 

“Yes. Yeah. Yes. Still here.”

 

He continued to smile and his thumb gently caressed her cheek. She felt herself stiffen but relax within the moment. The early morning left her doubting herself. The mid-morning left her questioning. But now, tonight. Tonight. She was certain. It would be so easy...

 

Mulder grinned and kissed her cheek softly, almost hesitating to kiss her elsewhere. She almost pouted when he did not. “What?”

 

“You can kiss me elsewhere,” she blurted out, the filter between her mind and mouth completely failing her.

 

He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “Nah, I think I will save that for later. For dessert perhaps.”

 

Scully felt herself warm all over as he let herself into her apartment and squeezed past her. She shut the door behind her as he slipped off his leather jacket and set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table. He paused by the oven and opened it. “Shepherd's Pie, Scully?”

 

“My mother's recipe. I figure some comfort food in order with how cold it's been with the weather lately,” she answered absently. She watched him and he knew that she knew that he knew she was watching him. He smiled easily at her. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't you mean 'I'm fine', Scully? What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” he teased gently. His smile disarmed her and made her feel like Dana the love struck teenager again. “Scully?”

 

“More like a fox,” she said vaguely, returning his smile.

 

Mulder had very rarely seen this side of Scully and he loved it. She was younger and more flirtaous.  He bit his bottom lip and smiled even wider. He crossed the expanse of the apartment, trying hard to keep his urges in check. He wanted more than anything than sweep her off her feet and just ravish her in that bedroom to show her how much of a goddess she really was. It would be so easy but he never did things simply, not when it came to Dana Scully.

 

There was an awkward silence that followed, either one unsure of what to do. She smiled and looked at wine. “Would you prefer beer, Mulder?” she asked. “I think it would go better with the shepherd's pie.”

 

“You don't like the wine, do you?”

 

“It's not that,” she said coyly. “It's just, it's really you. Really you. Not some Eddie Van Blunthe. I was drinking wine that night, remember?”

 

“Oh, so you want the real Fox Mulder?”

 

“Hm.”

 

He walked slowly towards her and she smiled teasingly, backing slowly towards the counter. He trapped her between the counter with both of his arms. Mulder liked this Scully, playful and carefree, he rarely saw her. She smiled indulgently and ducked her head under his arms, using her short stature to her advantage when he tried to come in for a kiss. Mulder would have second guessed her intentions if it wasn't for her soft laughter that carried through the apartment. “Dinner is getting cold and I didn't cook for you for nothing!”

 

. . . .

 

After dinner, Mulder ushered her into her living room, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. Scully watched him, her mind drifting. She wanted tonight to be different, the previous evening permanently burned into her memory. But she almost remembered that one time she had been conned by Eddie Van Blunthe. She wanted tonight to be different.

 

“Mulder,” she said softly.

 

“Hm, Scully?” he looked up from pouring a glass of wine.

 

“Forget the wine.”

 

She got up on her knees and put the wine glass and bottle of wine on the table. “What's going on, Scully?” he asked, slightly confused.

 

“Last night was right.”

 

“Right?”

 

“How long...how long have you felt like that about me, Mulder?” she asked softly.

 

He eased himself across from her on the couch. “How long have I felt...” he repeated. “Jesus...ages, Scully. I didn't realize it until after your abduction but I first got my crush right after the Jersey Devil incident. You would have rather come for me than have some date with some average guy. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly run of the mill."

 

"No," she whispered, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You're far from it."

 

Mulder shifted uneasily from the couch. "What's changed in you, Scully?"

 

"For once," she shrugged, looking up, "everything just seems right."

 

Right, Mulder mused. He looked at the discarded wine and glasses. "There really is no point to those are there?"

 

"No."

 

"What do you want, Scully?"

 

"I want a future that includes us," she said softly. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Mulder, and I think, neither do you."

 

Mulder was quiet and gently cupped her cheek like he had the night before. His fingers dragged down her jaw and he sought her lips hungrily. Scully kept her reactions silent, forbidding herself to lose control so quickly. But she couldn't help it. A small moan escaped her lips and she felt her body press against his chest. His arms wove tightly around her. She felt everything set aflame.

 

"Mulder..." she breathed. She arched her neck and back as he greedily kissed the length of her neck and pulled the neck of her sweater away and bit lightly into her shoulder. "Oh, Jesus..."

 

The electricity was earth shaking. Mulder thought last night had been amazing but this moment seemed to pale in comparison, and nothing had even happened yet. He continued his assault, using his tongue to smooth the space where he had bit her before sneaking another line of kisses back to her mouth. She moaned slightly, her cries silenced by the invasion his tongue. She continued to arch her body against him, grinding herself slowly against him. Each press of her body against his, she felt a growing pressure beneath her. She smiled against his mouth.

 

"Hello," she gasped. She pulled back and grinned. "Happy to see me, Mulder?"

 

"Happy to know you are still here," he answered sincerely. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I am happy for this moment."

 

Scully sighed contently. "Let's go somewhere more private, Mulder." She nodded towards her bedroom. "I'm not running this time."

 

He nodded. Last night had been amazing, make no mistake. It had been everything he had imagined for the past seven years and more. So much more. But now...

 

"I'd hope not," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "Scully. Look at me."

 

"Hm," she said. Her mind was elsewhere. She kept replaying the previous night in her mind and how everything simply had just come to a head. It had been magical. And rushed. The past seven years, they had found a trust in each that had gotten them so far. And now...

 

Mulder cupped her face within his hands, his thumb continually caressing her temple. “I love you.”

 

She smiled, kissing the inside of his wrist and whispered in reply. “I love you, too.”

 

He smiled and lowered his gaze. It seemed so easy. Too easy. That after several years of hardships, near death experiences, an abduction, and endless government conspiracies.... “A long stretch of love,” Mulder whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

 

“As much as I love you being romantic,” she began, slowly kissing his lips down his jaw and then biting his neck lightly. She felt him tense against her and a small moan escaped his lips. “You do have a tendency to ramble, Mulder. And right now, I want your actions to speak louder than words.”

 

“Is that a challenge, Agent Scully?”

 

“It is, Agent Mulder. Are you up to it?”

 

He grinned and pulled her hand hurried into her bedroom. Scully's blood was on fire. She bit her bottom lip, grinning, in anticipation. “So, Agent Scully,” Mulder began, his voice dropped in volume, but he used the same tone when he was excited about a new case. “Where should I began this investigation?”

 

“What investigation?” she smiled, narrowing her eyes.

 

He took her hands, slowly walking her backward to the bed until she crawled up on the bed. He approached her like a predator. She licked her lips as her eyes narrowed. “Well,” he began, his hand slowly sneaking up underneath her shirt. “You left in such hurry last night and we weren't exactly slow, I did not have a chance to conduct a thorough investigation.”

 

She eased herself across the bed, her breath caught every few seconds as Mulder's hand continued his explorations beneath her shirt. Gently he pulled her shirt off and took a moment to gaze at her. “What?” she asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“No,” he grinned. “No, everything is perfect.”

 

She gave a throaty chuckle as Mulder began to kiss down her shoulder to her breast bone. She fidgeted underneath him and tried to sit up. He grunted in reply and wordless snaked his arms around her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. He licked his lips hungrily. “I missed these, Scully,” he teased. “And as a good investigator, I must review all evidence.”

 

“Well, make sure you didn't miss anything,” she whispered, her blue eyes watching him intently.

 

He continued to lick his lips thoughtfully, as if unsure of what to do next. And she felt herself go wet with desire. That mouth. That tongue. For years, she watched him shuck those infinite number of sunflower seeds with such skill. She wondered what else he was capable of. She had just gotten a taste of it the night before. It had been so fleeting. But now...he held nothing back. He kissed her breastbone again, slowly and tantalizingly, and Scully writhed under him. He settled his leg between her knees and gently grasped both of her hands above her hand with his left hand while his right hand expanded over her right breast and his mouth began to work on her left breast.

 

She squeezed his hand, sighing. She closed her eyes and could feel him tracing her breast with his tongue, kissing here, biting light there, even occasionally suckling. His right hand did not make her other breast feel unloved as it traced it lightly, occasionally molding and massaging it. He switched and she felt him press into her, again feeling the hot bulge between them.

 

“Mulder,” she called breathlessly.

 

“Hm,” he asked looking up. His hazel eyes were bright. “I must say, I am trying to be thorough, Scully.”

 

“No,” she sighed.

 

It was becoming too much for her. She could already feel her body tensing and building towards an orgasm. She shook her head and opened her eyes. “What is it?”

 

“I need you,” she managed between short breaths.

 

He grinned devilishly. “I'm not quite done yet, Scully. There is more evidence to consider.”

 

“Well,” she sighed, still moving under him, “you better lose this if you want to use all of your senses and in conducting this investigation.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt. He pulled his shirt off and smiled when her hands reached up to touch his chest. She traced his chest lovingly, her eyes following her hand, as she wordlessly began to recite the muscles of the human body. “Scully, I'm the one conducting this investigation, remember?”

 

She smiled playfully and bent up slightly to kiss him. “Of course, Agent Mulder. Proceed.”

 

“Of course, Dr. Scully.”

 

Then he continued to kiss her, this time, trailing down her stomach, lingering over the angry scar of the gunshot wound that rested slightly above her belly button. Then her eyes widened with the realization of when he kept heading south. “Mulder,” she called.

 

“Hm.” He read the shock in her eyes and smiled. “Trust me, Scully. I got you.”

 

She couldn't find the words to express her shock at what was about to happen. He undid her jeans and pulled them down gently. She shivered feeling his fingertips gently graze her legs. “Fuck, Mulder,” she gasped.

 

“I haven't done anything yet.”

 

“You've done plenty already, trust me.” She sucked in a breath, willing her oncoming orgasm to hold off.

 

“Well, I'm just getting started.”

 

She closed her eyes when she felt the warm breath from his nose, and then his tongue dart gently against her folds before he delved deeper. With each stroke of his tongue, it stoked her fires. She began to squirm and grind against his face for relief. She felt herself beginning to tense again. Mulder, as if sensing her oncoming orgasm added his fingers to the mix. She shut her eyes when she felt her world explode with one finally flick of Mulder's tongue. She had never experienced such a powerful orgasm before that she saw stars behind her closed eyes. “FUCK!”

 

Mulder looked proud of himself when she opened her eyes again. “Why, Dr. Scully, I don't believe I am familiar with that medical term.”

 

She was laughing again and he could feel his own tightness becoming too much to bear. He inched his way back up, slowly grinding his jeans against her, while he kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him back slightly.

 

“Now, Mulder. Now.”

 

He kissed her neck and nodded wordlessly. Her hands were already busy undoing his belt and button. He slipped his jeans off and his boxers too. He pressed himself against her and she sighed. “Are you sure, Scully?” he whispered softly.

 

“Mulder, I have never been so sure in my life.”

 

He prepared himself to enter but she was one step ahead of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crossed her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his back side. It was enough to push himself in one smooth motion. She gasped, feeling him fully inside of her. Mulder tensed, his arm straining to hold them both up as his arm wrapped around her to keep her close. “Scully?”

 

She relaxed and sighed, resting her head in the crook his neck. “Yes. It's just...I thought this couldn't get any better. Last night was amazing but now...”

 

“Perfect,” he breathed, feeling her around him, drawing him in both internally and externally.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He moved tentatively at first but she moved with him. The previous night had been slightly awkward, their first movements together were foreign. But tonight, their unspoken communication key, they were able to move together with the expertise of long time lovers. It only took a few thrusts for both of them to be on the edge. “Mulder,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you close?”

 

“Oh, God, yes,” he growled.

 

“Together,” she whispered, her hand tracing his sweaty back. “Together or not at all.”

 

“That's asking a lot,” he managed. “If it were possible.”

 

“I believe in us,” she whispered, nibbling his ear. “We can do it, Mulder.”

 

She may be a skeptic, he mused, but she was the believer when it came to them. With renewed vigor, he continued his thrusts, Scully rising each time to greet him. It only took a few more times before they both were crying out unison, the tension and love the most exquisite thing that either had ever had felt. She relaxed, feeling him on top of her. He sighed happily and rolled to the side, never letting her go. She sighed happily, giggling as she kissed his chest, and looked up. “Told ya,” she whispered.

 

“Well, that was quite an investigation.”

 

“And the results, Agent Mulder.”

 

He held her close and sighed contently. “No more running, Scully.”

 

“No more running. It's a long stretch of love. We're in it for the long haul,” she whispered, relaxing against him. “I promise.”

 

-End.


End file.
